Unexpected Acts and Cigarettes
by Benny The Crazed Cartoonist
Summary: Grillby is two seconds away from kicking everyone out of his bar, until three patrons deliver an unexpected act of appreciation. Written in honour of Bartender Appreciation Day. No pairings.


**A super super quick thing I put together when I realized Bartender Appreciation Day existed. So, of course, I applied it to one of my favourite bartenders! Written and edited horrifyingly quickly, as per my usual style. All mistakes are my own.  
**

 **No characters here belong to me, or else Grillby would be a lot more featured in Undertale.**

 **On with the show.**

* * *

There were bad days, there were rough days, and then there were days like _this_. Two fights, four accidental reappearances of drinks previously in the stomachs of customers, two more drink-and-runs, and a broken table later, Grillby was _this_ close to booting everyone out the door and calling the day quits. The only thing keeping him going was the promise of a better revenue, but no one was coming in and the clock helped little by ticking by slowly as it pleased. Grillby would glance at it, note the time, and glance back fifteen minutes later to see that only three minutes had passed. Frustration and exhaustion plagued his limbs. The overpowering odour of sweat and stale puke was enough to make anybody gag, much less a monster that lived exclusively on oxygen and sunlight. A migraine pounded behind his glasses, and the noise didn't help. There was no way in the Underground he was going to make it to closing.

"Grillby! Where are my fries? I ordered them ten minutes ago!"

Accursed rush hours. The money was lovely, but the 'running himself off his feet' he could live without. He nodded in the customer's direction, finished wiping the table clean, and hustled to the kitchen. With the thick smell of boiling oil wafting around him and the sizzle of cooking fries masking the din of the bar, Grillby allowed himself a moment. He leaned his hands on the counter, breathing in, out, in, out. He needed oxygen. Pure, fresh oxygen, not this recycled smog that filtered through the mouths of a hundred different monsters in a day. And a smoke. He'd kill for a smoke.

Fries done, Grillby loaded them onto a plate and brought them to the customer. The dog guard dug in without so much as a thank you. Typical of dogs. Didn't wash, didn't help, didn't have any manners unless you bribed them with treats. Grillby maintained his composure and returned to the kitchen. A pile of dishes rivaling his own height awaited his attention.

Less than a quarter way through the stack, the bell to the door jangled for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening. Grillby heaved a sigh, pulling off his gloves. Things were getting out of hand today. It seemed like he might have to stay all night cleaning up the place.

Putting on an air of forced pleasantness, Grillby entered the bar to take care of the new patron. Upon noticing the three figures, though, he relaxed marginally. Sans, Papyrus, and their young human approached the bar and sat; Sans easing into the ambiance like a fish to water, Papyrus' eyes darting about like a caged cat, and Frisk's gaze settled determinedly on the bartender. Papyrus kept a running commentary on his discomfort, muttering under his breath ("It's far too smoky in here, don't people know it's bad for them?" "Look at all this greasy food. No doubt no one here would make it into the Royal Guard on such an unhealthy diet."). Frisk took a moment to pat his hand reassuringly.

Grillby turned his stare to his most frequent customer of the three. "Sans."

"Evening, Grillbz," the skeleton grinned. He cast a lidded eye to the bustling restaurant. "You got a full house today."

Grillby sighed, pulling in more contaminated air. "I do."

"You look awful. Your flames haven't been this low since that one day you ran out of those little drink umbrellas."

"Would you like to order now, or should I come back later?" The elemental deadpanned.

"Not why we're here." Sans hopped off his stool and ducked under the swinging counter to enter the bar area. Before Grillby could comprehend, Sans shoved him to the kitchen door. "You got this, right guys?" He threw over his shoulder to his brother and young charge. They both nodded and gave him thumbs up. "Kay, good. Be good though, Grillby set the _bar_ pretty high!"

This earned a disgusted groan from Papyrus and a loud giggle from the human before they vanished behind the kitchen doors.

Grillby resisted the bone hands pushing him farther and farther away from his responsibilities. "Sans, what in the Underground do you think you're doing?" The little skeleton was astonishingly strong for his diminutive size, and propelled him straight out the back door. The pressure of his hands dissipated. Grillby spun around, fully intending to march right back into his restaurant. Instead, he was met with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, courtesy of the resident lazybones.

"Just tryin' to refuel your _fire,_ Grillbz. You were workin' yourself to the _bone._ " A wink, and a rattle of the aforementioned packet, an invitation to indulge.

Outside, in the cool, _blessedly_ _clean_ air, Grillby wanted nothing more than to do just that. But... his patrons...

Sans sensed his hesitation. "Pap's done enough part-time here to keep people happy, and the kid is getting started on your dishes. You can afford a ten minute smoke break."

Grillby relented. Ignoring the lighter, he near snatched the pack out of Sans' fingers and lit a smoke with his own flame, taking a long, deep drag. This, coupled with the fresh oxygen, and his flames began to grow steadily.

"There, see? You look better already." Sans slid to the ground, apparently too lazy to stand. Grillby sat next to him, offering him a smoke. Sans declined. For a moment, they simply basked, enjoying the silence and watching light flakes of snow drift to the ground without a care.

Sans shifted, reaching into his hoodie pocket. A cacophony of coins, and a heavy bag landed in Grillby's lap. He stared, then slid Sans a glance.

The skeleton nodded to the bag. "There's my tab. All paid up."

Grillby had the bag open and counting the money almost faster than the monster eye could register. He slumped back, staring at nothing. Sans' entire tab. Almost five years worth of orders in his lap. He faced Sans slowly, like this whole ordeal was an illusion and if he moved too quickly the money would fade and drift away like dust. "...why?"

Sans, misleadingly nonchalant, barely spared him a look. "Why what?"

"Why... all this?"

"The kid mentioned something about 'Bartender Appreciation Day' being today. On the surface anyway. So we thought we'd _pay_ you a visit." Another wink.

Grillby lapsed into silence, processing. All day, all year even, endless rushing about with little or no acknowledgement to his duties. Mainly, he was happy to perform them, but even fire elementals had bad days. This... this was just...

If he could produce tears, they would likely have been wetting his cheeks. Grillby was not an existential monster in any form of mind, but all at once he was hyperaware of everything: the snow underboot, the cavernous rock overhead, the fragility of life itself. The importance of friendships. The warm glow of being appreciated.

Things he hadn't noticed in too long.

"Sans..." his throat closed. He wasn't even aware his throat could perform such an action.

A hand slid over his shoulder. "It's all right, buddy. We knew this was what you needed."

"What can I do to thank you?" For giving him what he never knew he needed... Grillby owed the three of them a lot more than a favour.

Sans stood, brushing damp dirt off his shorts. "Well for one, you can get me a drink. Finest ketchup in the house." He offered a hand. Not that it would be much help, the height differences between them were so extreme. Grillby took it anyway, almost overturning the skeleton as he pulled himself to his feet.

"I suppose I could whip something up."

Sans opened the back door, allowing Grillby to enter first. "Oh, and Grillbz? Put it on my tab."

Ah, well. All good things must come to an end.

 _ **END**_


End file.
